


burn and belong

by kornevable



Series: Sportsfest18 [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Fight Club - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kornevable/pseuds/kornevable
Summary: In the most unexpected situation, Haizaki sees Kise again. / slight HaiKise.





	burn and belong

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!
> 
> I had fun writing this, and it's actually the first time I made Haizaki and Kise fight with their fists haha. The [original prompt](https://sportsfest.dreamwidth.org/7464.html?thread=226856#cmt226856) is TIME: ten or twelve years after; PLACE: fight club.
> 
> Enjoy!

He doesn't fucking know what's going on anymore, but if that's what life decides to throw at him, he's not gonna say no. It'd be like refusing a cake sprinkled with money and fame, and Haizaki isn't stupid enough to thwart his own reputation. He's got the public's support, at least, even though he doesn't need it; it just feels good to have something on his side for once, when he has in front of him the most stupid and most crushable face in the universe.  
  
Ryouta is giving him a smirk, like the ones he used to give when he was being overconfident, when he was still the cub playing in the grown-ups' territory. The one that says he's going to prove something and that he will succeed at it. Fat fucking chance.  
  
“You think you gonna win, pretty boy?” he taunts.  
  
“Didn't you learn to think before speaking?” the guy has the gall to retort.  
  
At the signal it's just a blur of moves and ringing in his ears. He's been fighting his whole life, he knows how people move and how they think. Ryouta isn't a fighter, everybody can see it—Haizaki doesn't know why he's here and how he managed to slip inside the circle, but that's a detail he'll dig into later. Right now, he swings his right fist into Ryouta's face, and that feels just so good. So good to finally land a punch on him, to rip off the mask clean, because yes, that's the eyes he's always seen, the eyes that burn with a fury that he can't conceal from trained eyes. Only idiots fall for his sweet façade.  
  
Ryouta is showing him his true colors. His sharp eyes gauge him, while his hand wipes the trail of blood at the corner of his lips. He's not angry, just fired up a lot. The context is completely different from before, Haizaki didn't just hit him, he hit him because Ryouta was looking for it.  
  
“So, what are you gonna do?”  
  
The cheers of the small crowd drown the sound of Ryouta's feet kicking up the dust to lunge at him. He attempts a punch, on the right, but it's too obvious so Haizaki easily dodges; he also sees the left arm coming his way, and grabs it, twists it. Ryouta's face contorts in pain, but it's not enough to make him give up. He grabs Haizaki's shoulder with his right hand to steady himself, and kicks him in the stomach. The impact isn't as powerful as one might think but it's unexpected, faster than what Haizaki thought it would be, so he grunts and lets go of Ryouta's arm. They both step back.  
  
“You'll have to try harder than that, if you wanna beat me,” he says, almost amused.  
  
“I'm just getting started,” Ryouta replies, his confidence still intact.  
  
And they keep going, keep swinging and kicking and blocking and grabbing, anything that will bring them to the edge of victory. Haizaki's head is swimming in its own blood, after Ryouta managed to land one good blow at the back of his head, while Ryouta himself is looking rather ragged, bruised and bleeding. Honestly, Haizaki didn't think he would last this long; they've been at it for at least eight minutes now, the guys are getting impatient, and he is, too. So he looks for an opening, for the moment Ryouta lets down his guard, and strikes. A forceful punch under the chin, an uppercut the way he likes to administer them, and that's the final move.  
  
Ryouta lies on the floor, heavily breathing and dazed, and the crowd is exploding with excitement. They praise Haizaki's skills and his streak of victories, while they taunt Ryouta and his average performance, but he doesn't respond to their remarks. The winner doesn't help the loser on his feet.  
  
“You dead?”  
  
Ryouta gives a very ungraceful snort.  
  
“You wish.”  
  
He slowly gets up, using both arms and pushing on his legs, shaky and a bit unsure. He doesn't look like the perfect model everyone and their dogs drool over. That's the real Kise Ryouta. Haizaki huffs.  
  
“You're not used to this.”  
  
“I couldn't make it more obvious. Doesn't mean I couldn't fight.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess so.”  
  
It's just weird. One minute ago they were trying to suck the life out of each other, and now they are talking like two acquaintances. They were never anything, frankly, except for rivals, and they managed to fuck up even that. Ten years is a long time; a long time to see changes occurring, but not enough to become complete strangers. Haizaki doesn't know if he likes this new discovery.  
  
“So. You gonna clean that up?”  
  
Ryouta looks at him curiously, surveying the room still full of people wanting another fight to happen.  
  
“Well, I can't go home looking like this,” he shrugs, gesturing at himself. “I'm a responsible adult.”  
  
“Getting into fights is being responsible, now.”  
  
“I can get into fights and still be responsible, you know.”  
  
Not wrong. Still weird but not wrong. Haizaki has let these notions fly over his head forever ago, so he can't really judge. It's not as if anyone is giving a damn about what he's up to.  
  
He jerks a thumb towards the room in the back.  
  
“I've got stuff.”  
  
And Ryouta gives him the most incredulous look ever, eyes gleaming with such surprise and amazement that someone could actually quantify it. That pisses Haizaki off.  
  
“Never mind, just bleed and die.”  
  
“No, no, I don't want to bleed to death, but it's just. I guess we changed, huh, Shougo-kun?”  
  
Haizaki stays silent for a few seconds. Ryouta's face is still painted with a bit of disbelief, but he's sporting that smirk of his—that overconfident aura he keeps radiating with whenever he's facing Haizaki.  
  
“Biggest understatement of the century,” Haizaki sniggers.  
  
He leads the way, and Ryouta is quick to follow, light on his feet.


End file.
